


Our return

by ccaaii



Series: Reunions [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 22:37:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8031631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccaaii/pseuds/ccaaii
Summary: Aramis returns to Paris with his brothers and everything is a bit overwhelming that first night, all of them are glad he's back.Between 3.01 and 3.02





	Our return

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely a scenario that's been written about before and this is just my take on it.

It's when they leave the palace he realises how tired he is. They aren't paying too much mind to Feron - someone at the palace has an issue with the Musketeers and it's another of those things which is same old same old, and yet so different.

“I'll have to get Constance to sort you out a room.” Athos comments, looking over at him. 

Porthos chuckles. “Think she's a bit busy at the moment.” 

“Ah yes, they will not want to be disturbed until morning, I imagine,” Athos replied, “I’ll sort you out somewhere to sleep for tonight, but she might move you if I get it wrong.”

“Do we have to do that now?” Aramis asks before he can stop himself.

Athos looks at him quizzically and Porthos frowns. “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

“No, I-- … forget it.” 

“Come on,” Porthos says, grinning slightly. “What is it?”

“Too much to ask.” He says quietly, looking away from them. He doesn't see them exchange a look but he knows they do. “Lead on, Captain.” 

Porthos sighs then, ducking his head a little to meet Aramis’ eyes. “Tell us what it is.” 

Aramis holds his gaze for a moment, then remembers he's never been able to actually directly lie to Porthos. “I'm not quite ready to be without you again so soon,” he says slowly, and he knows Porthos is still mad at him, less so now but still, that he's been away for so long and things will have changed but he's back here with them and right now he doesn't want that to stop being the case again. He raises his eyebrows at him hopefully and Porthos smiles a bit in response.

Athos and Porthos look at each other again. Porthos gives a snort of laughter, and Athos a half smile and a shake of his head somewhere between fondness and exasperation then puts an arm around his shoulders. “Let's get a drink.”

He turns out to mean in his rooms, the captain's quarters which for some reason Aramis wasn't expecting until they got there. Jackets and weapons end up piled on the desk, leather and powder instead of prayer books and habits, and despite it being so long everything seems to fit back into his hands like he's never been away. But, he has and Athos has been captain for years now, everyone else would have gotten over that long ago. Porthos grins at him then. “Yeah, took some getting used to.” He smiles back as Porthos basically reads his mind. “For him too.” Porthos nods at Athos who's getting wine out of the cabinet. 

He turns back to them with the bottles. “Treville made it look much easier than it is.”

He walks over and hands them a cup of wine each before electing to half collapse onto his bed, kicking off his boots as he did, rather than the less comfortable wooden chairs.

“You haven't even had any yet,” Porthos points out. 

“To think we were at war only yesterday.” Athos comments, Aramis had nearly forgotten that they hadn't been in Paris either.

Porthos follows Athos’ lead and sits on the bed with his back against the wall.

“Looking forward to not sleeping on the ground.”

“I know,” Athos said with a smile, “and in an actual building, not a tent.”

“The extravagance.” Porthos chuckled.

Aramis remained standing; he wasn't sure he was welcome. Four years ago, he wouldn't have hesitated but…he definitely wasn't part of this conversation, about life on the front lines - the nights he'd slept on the floor in the kids’ room when one of them was sick weren't really an appropriate addition to this. 

“Aramis,” Athos said quietly, breaking through his thoughts. He looked up. “Come over here and sit down.” There's an air of command, advice and that same blend of fondness and exasperation about his voice. The silent 'you idiot’ is very obvious but it makes him relax, if only slightly.

Porthos shifts slightly to make the gap between them wider so he'll fit and he’s shoulder to shoulder with both of them again for the first time in years, and he almost can't comprehend it.

“Drink,” Athos advises, placing a finger under the cup he's holding and guiding it to his mouth.

He doesn't think they are expecting him to drain the entire thing.

Porthos laughs. “Been a while, has it?”

Aramis chuckles. “Wine is one of the vices we are allowed at the monastery actually.” Athos raises an eyebrow at him and he realises what he said. “Um… were allowed.” 

Porthos laughed and drank from his own cup. “Ah… French wine, at last. It’s good to be back in Paris.” 

He leans forward to pick up the bottle of wine from the floor and Aramis has to stop himself protesting the loss of contact down his side.

Porthos refills his cup. “You need to relax.” He says as he does.

“Are you two trying to get me drunk?” He asks with a smile in his voice.

They both laugh and Athos shakes his head. “Figure we all need a bit of this tonight - I'm glad we are to remain in Paris but…”

Porthos nods gravely. “Feels like we're abandoning them on the front, doesn't it?” Athos nods, more melancholy than before and Porthos takes a long drink. “Orders are orders.” 

Aramis swallows. “I'm sorry,” he says quietly and they both look at him surprised, “for not being there.” He clarifies. He can't apologise for leaving, not really.

Athos smiles at him warmly. “You're forgiven.”

“You're back now,” Porthos adds, his face unreadable. “Besides, wasn't like you were doing nothing.”

“Huh?”

“You were taking care of those kids,” Porthos says, and Aramis isn't sure whether that’s a dig or not until he continues. “They're war orphans, right?”

He nods and looks down. “Mostly, yeah.”

Porthos nudged his shoulder to get him to look at him. “Then it's good they had someone like you around.” He smiles at Aramis.

Aramis finds he can't keep looking at him then and runs and hand through his hair. “They'll be okay…” He murmurs. “They are well looked after still.”

“Of course,” says Athos, “but they are very very lucky,” he adds very seriously meeting Aramis’ eyes to check he believes him.

“You told them stories about us?” Porthos asks, his tone and smile are teasing but Aramis feels like he’s going to cry. “Sanitised I hope? I don’t think that many of our exploits are suitable for children”

“They liked them” Aramis manages “I liked the stories too...I…” he swallows “I didn’t do so well at learning to live without you”

He drops his gaze as he speaks so he doesn’t see Porthos’ immediate movement and it comes as a surprise when he’s crushed into the hug he didn’t get earlier. And, that’s when everything finally becomes a bit too overwhelming. He shudders slightly, resting his head on Porthos’ shoulder as they cling to each other.

“I think,” Athos comments quietly from behind him, “perhaps, we didn’t do that as well as we’d like to think either.” Porthos chuckles at that letting go of him.

Porthos clears his throat as he pulls away. “Heard the Dauphin is well.” He says gruffly. Aramis’ heart nearly stopped. Obviously this had been on his mind, obviously they would know that and realise he was hesitant to bring it up himself. “His mother too,” Porthos added.

“Thanks,” Aramis said quietly, and if his voice sounded slightly choked he's grateful neither of them mention it. “God…” He murmurs and runs a hand through his hair again. “I can't do this.”

Athos grips his arm. “Yes, you can. I take it your time away has done little to help matters.” 

“Apparently not.” He replies miserably, bringing his knees up to his chest.

“No reason to stay away then, really,” Porthos says gently. 

Aramis laughs slightly and leans a little more heavily on him. “That's one way of looking at it,” he swallows squaring his shoulders a bit, “I can handle it, don't worry about me.” 

“We're always going to worry about you,” Athos said, rolling his eyes. He isn't sure whether Athos means that because they care or because he might do something stupid or both, but he uncurls slightly and smiles at him in return. “More wine?” Athos suggests.

Porthos laughs. “That's your solution to everything,” he says but pours them all more anyway. 

“It works,” Athos says with a shrug, taking a drink. “More or less.”

“Mostly less,” Porthos says but with good humour. “We'll be able to see how the cadets are getting on tomorrow, won't we?”

“Oh yes, cadets,” Athos says, sounding much less enthusiastic. “Maybe I can get D’Artagnan to train them.” 

The other two laugh. “Surely you can't delegate that,” Porthos says.

“Watch me.” Athos shrugs. “He'll enjoy it, and he'll get to work with Constance.”

Porthos chuckles again. “He'll get to feel like an adult.” He sobers slightly. “He'd probably be pretty good actually.”

“His leadership and skills could use some refining,” Athos says, “but he shows promise.” He looks over at them and then laughs slightly reaching over to take the cup of wine out of Aramis’ hands before he dropped it. “Is he asleep?”

Aramis stirs from where he was leaning against Porthos’ shoulder. “Hm?”

Porthos laughs deeply. “Well, you're out of practice - hour and a half of work and two cups of wine, and you're falling asleep on me.” He moves his arm, ignoring Aramis’ noise of protest and put it round his shoulders instead allowing him to settle back against him. Aramis immediately relaxes and Porthos gave his shoulders another squeeze, laughing softly.

“Yes.” Athos says, “Training for you too. First thing in the morning, Captain's orders.”

Aramis pulls a face. “I'm not training under D’Artagnan,” he protests.

“Fine,” Athos relents. “You can train with us, but first I think we should sleep.” 

Porthos nods his agreement, moving round to the head of the bed and half pulling Aramis with him when he couldn't extract himself from the tangle they had become over the last few minutes. “We’ll sort out quarters for him some other time, yeah?” He directs at Athos.

“As I don't think he's going to let go of you anytime soon, that would be for the best, yes.” He responds fondly.

Aramis frowns sleepily at him in response and reaches out to pull him down to lie on his other side.

Athos laughs and lets him for a moment before resisting and pushing himself back up in his elbow. “No, hang on a minute, you two aren't sleeping in my bed with your boots on.”

Porthos laughs loudly and sits up to take his off. Aramis groans and remains lying down, bringing one arm over his eyes dramatically. Athos taps his chest with his knuckles twice. “Come on, up.” Aramis grins but turns his face into Athos’ shoulder instead of actually moving. “You know you're going to have to last longer than this - you're a Musketeer,” Athos says flatly in response but ruffles his hair as he talks to take the sting out of it. He feels the bed start shaking as Porthos laughs at that, and tugs on his ankle to try and get him to move.

Aramis groans again and sits up. “Fine.” He mumbles, taking his boots off and dropping them haphazardly onto the floor. Porthos chuckles again and pats him on the back as he lies back down waiting for Aramis to finish.

It takes them a moment of shifting to get comfortable when he does join them again.

“This is ridiculous,” Athos muttered.

“You need a bigger bed.” Porthos replies, “It's not big enough for all three of us.” Aramis mumbles something unintelligible and buries his head further into the space under Porthos’ collarbone. “Sorry, what was that?”

He lifted his head slightly. “This is fine.” He said a bit clearer. “It’s nice.” And it is, it’s nice to be back this close to them both.

“I'm going to remind you of that when you wake up with a crick in your neck,” Athos says from where he's pressed against Aramis' back. Aramis shifts slightly and rests his head back against Porthos’ shoulder. 

“Stop wriggling,” Porthos admonishes as Athos wraps an arm around his waist to keep him still, “and go to sleep - you’re exhausted.”

Aramis makes a noise of agreement and closes his eyes, he doesn't see the look of contentment at having him back the others share over his head.

**Author's Note:**

> This actually started with just sketching (which you can see on my [tumblr](http://fearlessstateofmind.tumblr.com/post/150376262979/this-was-a-sketch-that-turned-into-an-entire-fic)) how it turned into a 2000+ fic and the first thing I've published for years I'm still not sure.
> 
> There's a coda to this involving Constance (as we never see them greet each other again that I remember) which I may also post when it's a bit neater.


End file.
